


I do it because I love you

by Assisi



Category: The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: Assassination, Begging, Canonical Child Abuse, Dark, Dysfunctional Family, Execution, Family Issues, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Imprisonment, Inspired by Game of Thrones, Murder, Past Child Abuse, Public Execution, Triggers, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 07:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30136218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Assisi/pseuds/Assisi
Summary: Cardan summons his brother Balekin on a trial, which ends with his public execution by the eager hands of Jude Duarte.
Relationships: Balekin Greenbriar & Cardan Greenbriar, Jude Duarte & Balekin Greenbriar, Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	I do it because I love you

**Author's Note:**

> It’s loosely inspired by the Game of Thrones scene where Sansa and Arya judge and execute Littlefinger, I always thought it was such a badass, well-deserved scene.

Cardan is sitting alone at the centre of the long table, with a gloomy expression on his face. The room is full, mostly with faeries. Some are just curious courtiers and members of the Gentry, but most of them are the soldier-kind. Generals, knights, troops, assassins, and spies. They are all dressed in dark clothes, eyes trained on the High King.  
The Ghost, the Bomb, and the Roach are standing at the back, withdrawing into the shadows, where they feel most comfortable.  
The only spy who dares to stand in the spotlight is the Queen. She is standing right in the centre, alongside the King. Eventhough she is in a very exposed position, she looks slim and dark as a shadow.  
As usual, the courtiers can’t hold their tongues. They are murmuring excitedly, trying to guess what is going to happen. They are not used to the military presence at the Court, and it makes them uneasy. Everyone knows that trouble accompanies the army everywhere it goes.  
Taryn is standing next to her husband, the handsome Locke, their arms intertwined. She looks young and fresh as a flower, wearing the finest silk of Elfhame, looking just as beautiful as any faerie bride. She looks a little alarmed though, and can’t take her eyes off her twin sister, the Queen.  
“Send him in,” speaks the High King. The room goes quiet. The heavy wooden doors open, and Prince Balekin is escorted into the room by four armed knights.  
His wrists and ankles are cuffed, and he is dragging a massive iron ball on a chain. If the knights didn’t support him, he wouldn’t be able to hold himself up.  
He looks tortured and exhausted. Much skinnier, too.  
He’s been in prison for three months. Not the kind of privileged prison, like the Tower of Forgetting, where he slept in a nice bed, drank expensive tea and had all the advantages he deserved as a prince. No, the Queen made sure he doesn’t get that lucky this time.  
The knights shove him forward and he falls on his knees hard.  
“Why did you bring me here?” demands the prisoner. He still speaks with the arrogance of a prince, which makes the High King smile.  
“You are going to find out soon enough, brother.” Cardan tilts his head curiously and regards his brother for a few quiet moments. “I have to admit, it is satisfying to see you like this. It is satisfying to see you chained, kneeling before me. You are entirely at my mercy. And you don’t know what is going to happen because, you know, I could do _anything_ to you right now.”  
Balekin makes an annoyed jerk with his head.  
“Whatever you are planning to do, do it quickly, Cardan,” he says, which makes Cardan laugh out loud. But he doesn’t sound happy.  
“This sounds like a command, brother. It is very dangerous to command the High King because it can... annoy him. And you don’t want to annoy the High King, do you?” Balekin doesn’t answer, but Cardan continues anyway. “If I wanted to, Jude would cut off your ears and make you eat them. Or she would cut off your fingers and stick them up to your ass. She would skin you alive, and we could make a nice little jacket out of you. Oh, I imagine it would be very warm, a fabulous winter outfit.”  
While the King speaks, the Queen picks up a dagger somewhere from the inside of her black doublet and starts playing with it. She spins it around between her fingers, throws it up and catches it, the way a magician would do.  
“You… you wouldn’t let that happen,” says Balekin, but there is more hope than certainty in his voice. “You told me yourself that you are no murderer.”  
“Good thing you brought up the subject. _Murder_. You asked me earlier why I brought you here.” Cardan lets the silence settle. “You are here on a trial, Balekin Greenbriar, first born son of Eldred. You are accused of murdering our late father, the High King Eldred, and our sister, Princess Elowyn. You gave the order to the execution of our father’s consort, Taniot. You conspired against our brother, Prince Dain, and thanks to your treachery, Prince Dain and Princess Caelia were assassinated and Princess Rhyia committed suicide during your coup. You have committed treason against our family, and dare I say, our entire nation. How do you answer these charges?”  
Breath hitches in the room, but no one makes a sound. Everyone wants to see what becomes of Balekin after this.  
“I… I don’t deny them,” says Balekin, with a little shake in his voice. “I have done all these things, and I have done them because I genuinely believed that it is the best thing to do, to serve the best interests of the nation. I murdered our father, the man who already longed for death. The man who abandoned the Crown because he wanted to go to the Land of Promise. He wanted to die, Cardan! And remember, he never cared about either of us, especially not you. He kicked you out of your own home. Do not forget, Cardan, that I was more like a father to you, than he ever was.”  
Cardan raises an eyebrow.  
“I conspired against Dain as well as Elowyn,” Balekin continues. “The Grackles, Larks, and Falcons were always opposing Circles. We all had our spies, assassins, thieves and strategists. We all had our schemes for getting the throne, we all were ambitious and determined. If I was our father’s chosen one, Dain and Elowyn would have done the same thing I did.”  
“We will never know what they _would have_ done,” says Cardan quietly. “That’s the point. We will never know anything else about them because they are dead. Because of you. I admit you are really good at justifying your actions. You always were. Now, explain why Taniot, Caelia, and Rhyia had to die.”  
“Caelia’s and Rhyia’s death was not my fault. I never intended to hurt them, never. Caelia was shot to death by Dain’s assassin, whom I tried to capture and punish but he escaped. And Rhyia’s death was her own decision. She took her own life.”  
“After you slaughtered our whole family,” adds Cardan. “What about Taniot?”  
“Taniot was only one of our father’s numerous consorts. She was one of the common Folk, not especially clever or beautiful. She was a pawn, a worthless player in this much bigger game, and her life was a necessary price I had to pay.”  
The Folk share a few uncomfortable glances.  
“You paid _nothing_ ,” hisses Cardan. He rises from his seat, his face crumpling into an expression of utter disgust. “You took her life, and she paid with it. And whatever you tried to buy, apparently it was still too costly, because you have nothing. Look at you. You dreamt, and planned, and played, and lost. You really did everything you could think of to get what you want. You paid with so many people’s lives, that you’ve probably lost count. The only thing you haven’t thought of is that maybe,” he pauses, “you should pay with your _own_.”  
Balekin sinks into silence. His eyes are begging for mercy, but his mouth doesn’t move. The Queen stops playing with her knife and stares at Balekin.  
“Cardan… Cardan, I am your brother,” says Balekin, shivering. “I am the only family you have left. I let you live with me when everyone else abandoned you. I—”  
“You,” says Cardan, his expression wild as a storm. “You used to use me like a toy because I was young and vulnerable. You used to beat me for your own amusement. You _abused_ me. I never stood up for myself because I was afraid and ashamed. I am not afraid of you anymore, and I am not ashamed to say it in front of everyone. Because what you did was wrong. And wrong things have to be punished, you taught me this yourself.”  
“Cardan, please… I was wrong, I was wrong, please, Cardan! I am your brother!” begs Balekin, bowing deep before his little brother. His black hair falls forward, sweeping the floor. Cardan stays silent for a moment. Balekin looks up, probably hoping that he succeeded in convincing his brother, but when he sees the eager, savage expression on the Queen’s face, he visibly shudders. She is caressing the blade with one finger, looking at it as though it's a beautiful flower she just found in the meadow.  
“I sentence you to death for all the sins you have committed against the Greenbriar family and all of Faerie,” says Cardan quietly, but firmly. There is a calm finality in his voice but he grips his sleeve while talking. It is never easy to send your own brother to his death.  
“NO!” Balekin cries out, and actual tears start running down his dirty cheeks. “No, Cardan, no, please! Please, I am your brother, you can’t kill me, you are no murderer!”  
“I am no murderer,” Cardan repeats. “But Jude is. And she will do it with pleasure. Take your punishment like a prince. Take it with grace.”  
“No! You can’t do this!” Balekin makes a futile attempt to break free from the chains that hold him firmly in place. The courtiers begin to whisper in a tilted tone, they all know what’s coming.  
“I don’t do this because I am angry with you, brother,” says Cardan gently. “I do it because I love you. And I love this world enough to know that it is going to be a better place _without_ you.”  
The Queen starts to walk toward Balekin. She moves silently and gracefully, like a panther, her black cape swirls with every step.  
“Thank you for all your many lessons,” says Cardan. “I will never forget them.”  
Balekin trembles in terror, his eyes are trained on the shiny silver dagger in the Queen’s hand. He opens his mouth, maybe to beg or curse, but no sound leaves his throat. Maybe he already knows it is too late.  
The mortal girl, the bastard, the spy stops in front of Prince Balekin, and he can’t help but look up to her. She gives him a quick smile.  
And then, she strikes like a viper and slits his throat open.

**Author's Note:**

> So I actually wrote this years ago, but I forgot about it and now I found the dusty Google Doc, and it was better than expected so I thought I’d chuck it on here.  
> Chur bro


End file.
